Oh! might I kiss those eyes of fire, A million scarce would quench desire; Still would I steep my lips in bliss, And dwell an age on every kiss; Nor then my soul should sated be,...
Oh! might I kiss those eyes of fire, A million scarce would quench desire, Still would I steep my lips in bliss, And dwell an age on every kiss; Nor then my soul should sated be,...
With women and apples both Paris and Adam Made mischief enough in their day:-- God be praised that the fate of mankind, my dear Madam, Depends not on us, the same way....
Ne Rubeam, Pingui donatus Munere (Horace, Epistles II.i.267) While you, great patron of mankind, sustain The balanc'd world, and open all the main; Your country, chief, in arms abroad defend,...
A late lark twitters from the quiet skies; And from the west, Where the sun, his day's work ended, Lingers as in content, There falls on the old, grey city An influence luminous and serene,...
My faithful friend, if you can see The fruit to grow up, or the tree; If you can see the colour come Into the blushing pear or plum; If you can see the water grow To cakes of ice, or flakes of snow;...
Whilst, in a dress that one might swear The whole was made of woven air, Pert Fashion spreads her senseless sway Over the giddy and the gay (Who think, by showing all their charms,...
Between Adam and me the great difference is, Tho' a paradise each has been forced to resign, That he never wore breeches, till turned out of his, While for want of my breeches, I'm banisht from mine.
A little book, this grim November day, Wherein, O tired heart, to creep away, - Come drink this wine and wear this fadeless rose, Nor heed the world, nor what the world shall say. ...
"You look like a widower," she said Through the folding-doors with a laugh from the bed, As he sat by the fire in the outer room, Reading late on a night of gloom,...
On his morning rounds the Master Goes to learn how all things fare; Searches pasture after pasture, Sheep and cattle eyes with care; And, for silence or for talk, He hath comrades in his walk;...
You know, we French stormed Ratisbon: A mile or so away, On a little mound, Napol'on Stood on our storming-day; With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, Legs wide, arms locked behind,...
Now in the dark of February rains, Poor lovers of the sunshine, spring is born, The earthy fields are full of hidden corn, And March's violets bud along the lanes; ...
Picnics is fun 'at's purty hard to beat. I purt'-nigh ruther go to them than eat. I purt'-nigh ruther go to them than go With our Charlotty to the Trick-Dog Show.